BY THE topee-tambo standards of covid & Trumpworld, it was a good week for liberal democracy and a bad one for the two dunce frontrunners leading the Western race to totalitarianism. On one side of the pond, a Grand Jury took the first steps towards criminal charges being laid against the Fat Nixon Group of Charlatans and, on the other, Dominic Cummings, the master-moron of Brexit, turned like the snake he is and bit his former charmer in the asp.

And, in the vast Atlantic Ocean that reflects the gulf between Boris Johnson and Donald J for Jackass Trump on the one hand and the future of democracy on the other, those two developments constitute a little good news.

For the handful of people left on these rocks who remember what freedom and responsibility really are.

Rupert Murdoch – possibly the most evil man in the world, until Mitch McConnell wakes up – and his Who-Gives-a-Fox News will package the New York Grand Jury and Cummings-Gone-Wild as liberal conspiracies – as if the left, anywhere in the world, conspires at anything!

Even in America (where what passes for “the left” would be, in Europe, “the far right”) people on the left don’t conspire. They just hope things will one day finally get better… and Lucy whips the ball away before Charlie Brown can kick it every time.

So Fox Facts-Free News talking fatheads will rant about smacking down “woke-ness” and “owning the Libs”. And lie outright to present a fat fraud and a marginally-less-fat-and-fraudlent upper class twit as being unfairly treated.

And their moronic viewers will fall for it.

ALL GOOD things must come to an end and the English Premiership goes out with a likely massive bang today. Amazingly, the only positions firmly settled on the final day in the real Premiership are those of champions and first runner-up, both held solidly by Manchester.

The Fantasy Premier League has had just as exciting an end, at least for my team, BC FC, which has spent most of its five seasons in the competition jockeying, not to be at the top of its mini-leagues and of the FPL itself, but to avoid being at the very bottom. For most of its existence, BC FC has occupied, all season long, the cellar position in the two leagues into which it was conscripted to make up numbers.

And to persuade all the other managers to enter, certain in the knowledge that, as long as BC FC was in, they would never be the worst team in that particular mini-league.

Since Christmas, BC FC has been in the top four of the ten-team family & friends mini-league, and has been at number one for all but, I think, one game-week. In the far more informed eight-team neighbourhood league, BC FC had more or less abandoned any hope of closing the near 200-point gap between itself and the top team.

Well, for the last few game-weeks, BC FC has been at number one there, too. GW34 ended with BC FC just three points ahead of the new number two team. In GW35, the gap widened to, I think, 17 points. Going into today’s final game-week, BC FC is 55 points ahead at number one in the neighbourhood league.

BECAW Y’BOY did know in advance he was getting the second Astra-Zeneca jook Wednesday afternoon, Y’Boy take in front, literary, and sit down there Tuesday evening into Wednesday morning to write TGIF early.

Becaw Y’Boy remember – is more like he couldn’ta forget – how sick he did get after the first jook. For the first mussee 18 hours or so, Y’Boy was feeling good, walking in the cane and thing, and then that little taste of the virus which is the injection hit him full force in one lash, like ah over-smoke ganja head, and Y’Boy had was to lie down in he bed, wrap up like a roti, cyar do nothing for he-self, exceptin’ wait for the thing to pass, like a PNM government or one-them long-long freight train they’s have in ‘Merica.

And when it hit him, it was a spirit-lash. Y'Boy shivering in the hot sun, wearing denim jacket and track pants and socks and tam on he head at high noon. But Y’Boy grateful to the Small Mercies Department of Heaven, the onliest one still working these days. Cold sweat and palpitation turn into the sleep of the dead and Y’Boy come out the long dark tunnel with no muscle pain neither no exhaustion, and little bit closer to living little bit longer, because he get that first jab.

A Trini covid-19 screenplay with apologies to George A Romero’s seminal zombie movie, Night of the Living Dead

SCENE ONE. INT. CABINET MEETING. DAY.

Prime Minister taps bald head distractedly. Finance Minister jumps up from chair, rushes to blow hot breath on PM’s head. Rubs it vigorously with jacket elbow.

PM: I tell you we shoulda take the firetrucking Sabga vaccines! But you say people will talk about the “wan-pasent”! Is 80 per cent herd immunity I want!

[Bats Finance Minister’s elbow away.]

And stop shining my firetrucking head! You ever see a bald head need a shine? Now I have to put on new head makeup for the cameras.

Finance Minister [looking at makeup smudge on jacket regretfully]: Keithos, we couldn’t-a tell people they was getting Astra-Zeneca and then gi’ them Ansa-McAl-Zeneca!

A FANTASY FOOTBALL NIGHTMARE — But You Never Wake Up

An advice column for the bottom seven million Fantasy Premier League managers

By BC Pires

WITH AN average score of 83 points per team all around the world, the first triple game-week in Fantasy Premier League worked out very well for very many FPL teams but most of them still didn’t do as well as my team, BC FC, which brought in 147 points, enough to keep its number one spot on our family & friends mini-league and — astonishingly to an FPL manager accustomed to finishing in the cellar position of all his mini-leagues and the bottom 500K of the bottom 7M — even well enough to reach the number one spot in the far more informed neighbourhood mini-league.

Yes, it’s true. BC FC, which was almost 200 points below the top neighbourhood team this season ended triple game-week 35 just three points ahead of the former number one.